Carrying
JFK then and nowPallbearer
still has scrapbook on assassinationBy
David Giffels

Jerry
Diamond of Stow has kept a scrapbook of items about President John F. Kennedy's
1963 assassination. Diamond is the fourth pallbearer from the right in
the photo.

Jerry
Diamond knows it wasn't about him.

But
he lives in a country fascinated with anniversaries and ceremony and brushes
with fame.

So
he understood why, 40 years after the fact, I might be interested in his
small piece of an American epic. Why I might be interested in a man from
Stow who was a pallbearer at one of the most famous funerals in our nation's
history.

On
Saturday, the most tragic piece of the Kennedy mystique will again unfurl,
as a nation remembers the 40th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination.

Jerry
Diamond will watch, as he has always watched, with two sets of eyes. One
will take in the profound national sadness that still rises up with the
memory of the event. And the other will watch for the young Marine at the
rear left of the casket as it made its slow ceremonial way toward Arlington
National Cemetery.

"That's
me,'' Diamond said as he paged through a faded blue binder of old photographs.
He touched his finger to the image of a straight-backed soldier in dress
blues, one of eight men carrying the heaviest casket they'd ever been assigned.

When
Diamond talks about the event now, it is with an emotional reserve. He
has told the story many times, and he has lived his years twice over since
that November day in 1963. Then, as now, he saw this as a soldier's duty
that deserved no fanfare.

There
was no particular reason Diamond was chosen for funeral detail. A native
of Pennsylvania who'd grown up in Stow, he enlisted in the Marines straight
out of high school. At age 19, the private was assigned to the Ceremonial
Guard and Body Bearers unit, which included members of the Marines, Army,
Navy, Air Force and Coast Guard. The only real requirement was that each
man be around 6 feet tall.

The
group had handled a number of funerals and was practicing for the state
ceremony for former President Herbert Hoover, who was nearing death.

While
training at Quantico, Virginia, Diamond was called to his barracks. In
the same breath, he learned that the president had been shot and that he
was being sent immediately to Washington to pick up the body. From that
moment on, his focus would be on the bronze casket containing the president's
body.

On
the day of the funeral, November 25, 1963, he and the seven others escorted
the casket from the Capitol rotunda to St. Matthew's Roman Catholic Cathedral
to the graveside. The funeral was among the first major news events to
be televised nationally, and so it remains etched more directly in the
memories of most Americans who were alive then.

And
this is where Diamond's memory differs.

What
he remembers is the weight of the casket, and the feeling in his legs as
he stood atop the Capitol steps, worried about the steep decline.

"Don't
fail me now,'' he remembers telling himself, then adds, "You didn't want
to be the one that locked knees and passed out.''

He
remembers his commanding officer, "a real leader of men,'' breaking protocol,
stepping in to help with the weight as the pallbearers stood at attention.

He
remembers the signals the men gave with eyes and body language as they
stepped sharply through their silent routine.

He
remembers the skittishness in the riderless horse that carried a set of
boots down Pennsylvania Avenue.

And
he remembers his rigid Marines discipline being tested as he passed through
the throngs on the street. He never turned his head, but from the corners
of his eyes, he could see the pain on the faces of people crying.

"It
kicked,'' he says. "Oh, wow.''

His
wife, Barbara, didn't know he was one of the pallbearers until Diamond's
sister spotted him on television and called her. The previous weekend had
been such a whirlwind that he didn't have time to call home. In a sense,
even at the center of all that attention, he was alone.

Not
long after the funeral, Diamond was transferred to Camp Lejeune, where
he served another two years before his discharge. He returned home and
took a job with Ohio Edison. He and Barbara raised two children and now
have a grandchild. After 37 years with the power company, he is on an extended
vacation that will lead to his retirement in February.

At
age 59, he recognizes the pallbearer detail as a milestone in his life.
But now it's one of many.

He
has followed the ongoing history of the Kennedy assassination, watching
documentaries and reading about it. He keeps a scrapbook and a few other
mementos, including a copy of a picture from the Smithsonian Institution
that shows him carrying the bronze casket on November 22, 1963.

"You
know you're older than dirt when they put you in the Smithsonian,'' he
jokes.

And
like so many others, he retains an image of a young president who he believes
lost his chance to change the country.

"Here
we are 40 years later, talking about a man,'' Diamond says. "I think he
was one heck of a man, a good leader. Had he lived, I think things would
have been a little different. Then, it was, `What can you do for your country?'
Now, it's all, 'Me, me.' ''

Maybe
as a reminder of that difference, Diamond keeps an American flag and a
Marine Corps flag flying in his front yard.

"That
was a time when you wanted to serve your country,'' he says. "We were focused
on what had to be done.''